Family Outlives the Season
by KLMeri
Summary: Jim Kirk catches wind of a secret operation but is thwarted in finding out details of said operation. The crew has agreed that he can't know, given that Jim has become their 'Adopt An Adult' for the holidays. Amidst ship-side shenanigans, plans best laid but disastrously executed, and one determined starship captain, friendships are strengthened and hearts are won. K/S/M - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title** : Family Outlives the Season  
 **Author** : klmeri  
 **Fandom** : Star Trek AOS  
 **Pairing** : Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
 **Word Count** : ~18000  
 **Rating** : PG-13  
 **Summary** : Jim Kirk catches wind of a secret operation but is frustratingly thwarted in finding out details of said operation. The crew has agreed that he can't know, given that by unanimous vote Jim has become their 'Adopt An Adult' for the holidays. Amidst ship-side shenanigans, plans best laid but disastrously executed, and one extremely determined starship captain, friendships are strengthened and hearts are won.  
 **A/N** : Happy Holidays, everyone! I proudly present to you a story for the first year of **McSpirk Holiday Fest** , based on these prompts:  
 **inuhimesblog** suggested Jim trying to figure out his Christmas presents from his boyfriends;  
 **ladybuggete** suggested the boys bringing holiday cheer and gifts to the less fortunate;  
 **fandomidjits** suggested family-oriented celebrations on the Enterprise.  
I took their wonderful ideas and spun it into a tale that I hope warms your McSpirk-loving hearts. Now, on to the story!

* * *

Aboard the USS Enterprise, a man diverged from corridor traffic as he came abreast of the entrance to the main Briefing Room. Its door slid back to admit him, and the occupants inside, already seated at an oblong table, turned in anticipation. They visibly deflated when he stepped through.

"Not again," one of them murmured.

Catching that remark, Montgomery Scott glanced up from a data padd in his hands. He blinked, and his face reddened. "I'm not that late, am I?"

One person raised an eyebrow and looked like he might have answered that if it weren't for his neighbor not-so-subtly nudging one of his arms as a reminder to keep quiet.

"You're fine," called the woman across from Spock and McCoy. She patted an empty chair next to her.

The Chief of Engineering scanned the group as he sat down. "Where's the Capt'n?"

With a shake of his head, Sulu abandoned his place at the table for a replicator station at the far end of the room.

"For god's sake, somebody get Jim on the horn," said McCoy. "This is ridiculous. We're wasting time!"

"We could wait a few minutes more, Doctor," countered Mr. Spock, though he had already pivoted to face the library computer console and asked the ship's computer to locate their errant captain.

Jim Kirk came onscreen. "Kirk here."

McCoy leaned over Spock's arm in view of Kirk. "It's only polite that the person who tells everybody to show up for a big, important meeting shows up himself."

The person in question winced. "Is that time already? Guys, I apologize. I am not going to make it."

"That's what you said last time!"

Kirk raised his hands. "It's out of my hands, Bones. A missive from Command caught me on the way out. I couldn't ignore it."

"Then why didn't you reschedule?" the doctor demanded.

"The call should have taken an hour, tops. Look, I'm the one suffering here, listening to Admiral Long-winded. And I used to think his Academy lectures were boring!"

Spock's eyebrows had drawn together upon hearing the casual insult of a superior officer. Sulu smirked from where he leaned against the wall. Chekov snickered.

Suddenly, Kirk looked to his left and paled. His hasty "Oh no, no, no, that was a _joke_ , Admiral!" caused the others at the table to simply shake their heads.

McCoy settled back in his chair and crossed his arms with a harrumph. "Kid never thinks to check the mute button."

Spock stated, "Captain, I have a copy of the preliminary agenda. Should we proceed without you?"

"Roger that, Mr. Spock. Brief me later."

Spock closed the channel without ceremony and activated the viewing screen on the opposite wall.

As Kirk's agenda came into focus, McCoy voiced another complaint. "You know, there's a reason we report up the chain of command. This meeting is just going to lead to another meeting for some of us."

"Your point is acknowledged, Dr. McCoy. Rest assured the Captain and I do attempt to minimize the impact of these discussions on your work schedule."

McCoy cut his eyes at the Vulcan but oddly only smiled.

Sulu returned from the replicator with two mugs of coffee in hand. He placed one in front of McCoy. "This should help," the man said, taking a seat.

"Thanks, Sulu."

"Don't mention it."

Chekov tentatively raised a hand. "I have a question. Why am I required to be here?"

"You drew the short straw," McCoy said at the same time Spock replied, "As you are already engaged in training under Mr. Scott, the Captain believes it would be beneficial for you to observe the protocols and duties delegated to the ship's senior officers."

The doctor snorted. "Like I said, the short straw. Welcome to the party nobody else wants to attend."

Chekov looked between the pair, seeming unable to decide which answer frightened him less.

Uhura's sigh was very delicate but nonetheless pointed. "Pavel, you stepped up as Acting Chief Engineer when we needed you. This is Kirk's way of acknowledging it."

"Oh," replied the young man, his concern disappearing.

Sulu leaned back in his chair. "We should start."

"Seconded," called Scotty, once again preoccupied by his PADD. "I cannae be late for the test session of the new dilithium crystals."

"Then you should be the first to report on the status of your department's projects, Mr. Scott," decided Spock.

An hour later, the session concluded with Spock folding his hands on the table and saying, "We have covered each item on the agenda and heard from your respective areas. Does anyone have anything else to add before this meeting is adjourned?"

Sulu spoke up. "I do. Kirk announced last week that shore leave is delayed. We won't be planet-side for another two months."

"Not my recommendation," muttered McCoy.

Sulu nodded as if he knew that. "Since then, I've been approached by several crewmen requesting to know if any festivities are planned in lieu of shore leave."

Uhura flicked a stylus back and forth between her fingers. "What kind of festivities?"

Sulu shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not sure, myself, but there are crew aboard who come from families that still practice the seasonal celebrations."

"If you're talking about Christmas," Leonard said, "that tradition died out after World War III."

"Not completely," Scotty countered. "My family is one of those who still celebrates it. Maybe not the way it was done in the old days, but we do spend a few days together and exchange gifts."

"What is Christmas?" the youngest officer at the table inquired, looking between Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott.

McCoy raised his eyebrows. "Pavel, of all people I thought you would be the one to know about St. Nick."

"Nick—You mean Nikola? But of course, I have seen his status in zhe old national museum. His garb was strange. Saints were invented in Russia, you know," Pavel concluded wisely.

A smattering of laughter went around the table.

"Not quite," McCoy said. "Does no one take the history course on Old World religions anymore?"

"Off-world religions are far more interesting," Nyota said.

Spock remarked, "While I find this discussion somewhat fascinating, to Lt. Uhura's point, there are individuals on this ship whose planets or colonies experience no turn of seasons, or who do not consider themselves religious, much less practice a Terran religion that was prominent some centuries ago. Any ship-funded social events or acknowledged holidays should be relevant to all crew members or the Federation."

Sulu looked thoughtful. "What if we hosted an event that was relevant to everyone? At the same time, we could incorporate values that we all believe in." He indicated Spock. "Individualism."

"Family," Scotty chimed in.

Pavel added eagerly, "Assisting those in need. It's what we _do_."

"Fun," McCoy said with a tiny smile.

Spock turned to the doctor. "Fun?"

"It's not a party if it's not fun, Spock—and nothing's better for the morale of the ones who miss their families right now than to spread good cheer."

Scotty beamed. "I like this idea already!"

"Spock," Uhura wanted to know, "what kind of event would be within regulation?"

"Technically any event is permissible if it is approved by the Captain."

"So we get Kirk's buy-in and we're golden," she concluded.

"Jim..." Leonard snapped his fingers and sat up. "That's it! Let's make this about the Captain."

Uhura huffed. "A celebration _of_ Kirk? How much larger do you want his ego to grow?"

"As I recall," Spock added, "Starfleet has held several commemorations for Captain Kirk, all of which were quite elaborate."

"I'm not talking about inflating Jim's ego. Think of it as a show of appreciation. We'll have activities to satisfy everyone but one main event to recognize our leadership. Meaning, if we stick Jim at the center of the festivities, no one can argue over the prize, while at the same time it proves a point that some of the Admirals have been trying to undermine for a while now. Kirk may be the youngest Starfleet captain in history, but there is honor in serving under his command. It's about time we forced them to acknowledge that. This could be the perfect opportunity to do it."

Scotty said, "I kinda see your point, Doctor, but how is this celebration going to remind me of Christmas?"

McCoy crossed his arms. "It's a common tradition in many cultures—or has been—to give gifts to one's superior to acknowledge hierarchy. Why don't we each pick out a gift for Jim?"

Scotty gasped as if McCoy had said something blasphemous. "Captain My-Hair's-Perfect-But-I'm-Always-Canceling-Staff-Meetings should _not_ get all the presents!"

The doctor just chuckled. "Now we come to the dual side of this plan, Scotty. Jim has never seen a Christmas present, let alone received a gift that he didn't earn in some way. They say charity starts at home. Isn't that what Jim has always tried to do for us, make the Enterprise feel like our home? So who better to open our hearts to than him!"

"When you put it like..." murmured the engineer. "Not even one?"

"No," McCoy confirmed.

"I'm good with this plan," said Sulu.

"Same," agreed Chekov.

Uhura stated, her tone serious, "As you all know, I find Kirk deeply annoying, but I do love him a little in a sisterly way. Count me in."

Spock started to say something but just then McCoy looked sidelong at the Vulcan and remarked, "There's one more thing. We can't _tell_ Jim what we're planning to do."

Spock froze. "He is the captain. We must."

"The point is to catch Jim off-guard—like his surprise birthday dinner."

"Recall the result of that dinner, Doctor."

McCoy argued, "This will be different."

Spock studied the man next to him for too long before he said, "I cannot approve the pursuit of such a course." He powered off the main viewer and stood up. "Should you be willing to change your mind, I am amendable to resuming this discussion."

No one said anything.

Spock inclined his head. "Dismissed." He left.

"Oh well," Scotty commented, "it was a good idea."

McCoy drummed his fingers on the table. "It _is_ good—too good to pass up."

"But Mr. Spock is against it," Chekov pointed out.

"I'll deal with Spock. Y'all start thinking up specifics of what we can accomplish in the next two weeks, both to engage the crew and to prevent Jim finding out what we're up to. We'll regroup in a couple of days."

The others silently nodded their agreement. The group went their separate ways.

Two days later, the First Officer gave his approval to proceed; thus Operation Adopt-a-Kirk, as Leonard sarcastically dubbed it, was officially underway.

* * *

The communication was spread furtively by word of mouth. Crewmen gathered to discuss their plans in secret corners or by coded texts. An undercurrent of excitement began to build, lightening the steps of their walk and adding jolliness to their greetings. The thought that each officer—whether yeoman, scientist, or commander—was part of this covert mission inspired a sense of pride and unity, and it made the crew more aware of the trust placed in them by their seniors. They wanted to do their best and would try, for it had been said that the celebrations would culminate in a main event which one man in particular would never forget.

Therefore it was imperative that Kirk didn't know what was coming. While the smaller celebrations would be for everyone to enjoy, the main event would honor him.

Kirk's crew intended to see that happen.

* * *

Jim Kirk rubbed at his temples as he rounded a corner, wanting nothing more than to enjoy the end of his shift with his favorite people. He realized when he entered his quarters that he would have to find one of them first.

It wouldn't be an easy feat, Jim decided. Spock and McCoy had become rather elusive as of late. He didn't want to believe it was intentional, but any effort he made to ask where or what they were up to was met with diversion. Jim knew too much about the importance of that tactic to easily dismiss it.

"Computer," he called, "locate Mr. Spock."

" _Working. Located: B Deck, Section 2F._ "

So, Spock was near his office, likely in one of the science labs. The Vulcan did prefer to work longer hours than most of the crew.

"Computer," Jim called again, "locate Dr. McCoy."

" _Working. Working. Located: H Deck, Recreation Snack Bar._ "

Jim frowned. That was neither where Bones was supposed to be nor a place he usually frequented. Jim had a moment's debate, then left his quarters, heading for the nearest turbolift.

When he stepped foot on the rec deck, a familiar tingle began at the back of his neck. He ignored it until he couldn't stand the red alert any longer and turned around in the middle of the corridor. At the last bend, a man was talking into a communicator. When he saw Kirk looking at him, he blinked, closed his comm unit mid-sentence and turned his back to study a mapping display embedded in the wall.

If it wasn't one of his own crew, Jim would have labeled the man as an enemy scout. But that was crazy, and so Jim dismissed the thought. He entered the main room by the doors along the balcony. Bypassing one of the smaller rooms where he played his first game of chess with Spock, he crossed to the opposite side via the information display alcove. Out of nowhere a person jumped into his path, yelling, "Captain!"

Jim eyed the young man in a Security tunic, deciding the fellow was overly exuberant, not distraught. Jim offered him a small smile. "Something I can do for you, Ensign?"

"Uh..." The man cast his gaze nervously behind him then into the game pit and pointed a finger. "Shuffleboard!"

"Shuffleboard?" Jim repeated, not understanding.

"Do you—do you want to play with me?"

Jim adopted a strange look but answered politely, "I'm on duty. Another time."

When Jim tried to move past the young man, he found his path blocked again.

This time the ensign latched onto the captain's arms. His stammer became more frantic. "Not that way, sir! I mean, that is, I need you to... Oh golly woggles!"

Jim grew an inch. "Are you trying to stall me, Ensign?"

No more words came of the man's mouth. It just hung open.

Jim did the exact opposite of what he'd been told to do: he twisted out of the grasp and took off at a run towards the portside. He nearly crashed into the person hurrying out of the snack bar. They grabbed a hold of each other.

"Jim!"

Jim tightened his grip on the person he had been trying to find. "Bones, what's going on?"

Something flickered through McCoy's eyes before the man replied, "Nothing." He pulled back far enough that Jim was forced to let go of him. "You shouldn't run like that, Captain. You could have caused an accident."

Jim glanced behind him. "I thought—" The area by the alcove was empty. Walking towards the railing, he looked down at the lower deck. Most of the gaming tables were empty too. So was the shuffleboard. "Where did he go?" Jim murmured.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Jim turned, his attention drawn back to McCoy. "Why are you here, Bones?"

The man gave a half-shrug. "For a drink, why else?" Then he shook his head slightly and steered Jim to the end of the balcony. "I know why you're here, though," Leonard said as they went down a short set of steps.

Jim told McCoy, "I'm here for you," but he was automatically drawn to the closest viewport.

"Not a bad view." Leonard came to stand beside Jim. "Now that you've found me... What do you want to do?"

Jim turned to the man he loved and hesitated. In the end, he decided to let things go. Adopting a grin, he secured an arm about the man's waist and teased, "I have a few ideas."

"Jim," his partner hissed.

"Relax. No one's around but us."

McCoy grumbled under his breath but didn't move away. Together, the pair studied the glimpse of space through the viewport and appeared content.

Behind them, up the stairs and farther along the balcony, a group of people exited the snack bar and quietly made their way to the lifts. McCoy never once turned around, but it was clear his part in their escape had been crucial.

Jim watched the tiny reflections in the window recede.

* * *

A door snapped open and closed.

"We had a close call."

Commander Spock paused in his review of a lab report. "Greetings, Dr. McCoy. If you will wait a moment, I am in the middle of—"

The CMO dragged a chair over to the front of Spock's desk. "If it weren't for Scotty's monitoring program and the Chief of Security's quick thinking, we would've been caught, Spock!"

Accepting that no additional work would be accomplished for the time being, Spock marked his place and minimized the report. He swiveled around to face his visitors, settling his forearms along the arms of his chair.

McCoy eyed him. "Don't say 'I told you so'."

"This is precisely what I said would happen."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "I don't know why I bother."

Spock replied, "I would like to know that also."

The man huffed, then glared at him. "I came here for support, you pointy-eared hobgoblin!" McCoy raked his fingers through his hair, indicating frustration. "God help me, but I need you."

Spock steepled his fingers. It had not taken as long as he predicted for Leonard to ask his help. "I do have some suggestions."

The man's fierce scowl faded somewhat as he sat up. "Okay then. Let's hear them."

Spock withdrew a PADD from a drawer of his desk and activated it but did not hand it over to the doctor right away. "I have one condition... Leonard."

Leonard looked at him.

"If any point in time it appears this mission may jeopardize our future with Jim, I reserve the right to reveal it."

McCoy didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "Our future?"

At times like this, he appreciated how perceptive his partner could be. "Affirmative."

The man reached across the desk but rather than taking the PADD from Spock, he covered the back of Spock's hand. "All right," he said, his tone turning teasing. "I always knew you had a soft spot for us."

"There was a time when it seemed an illogical choice to date the ship's captain and senior medical officer. In hindsight, I see now why it was in fact quite logical."

McCoy's eyes twinkled. "How do you figure that?"

"The alternative would have been to leave you and Jim to manage on your own. I believe you just said something to this effect. It is inevitable that you need me."

Leonard laughed.

Pleased, Spock handed him the PADD.

* * *

The usual clamor of the starship was absent from the Bridge. The crew manned their stations so quietly, they had created an illusion of peace. At the center of this illusion was one man, sprawled in the command chair, fingers tapping away on a palm-sized data padd.

"The atmosphere is much improved these days," he commented almost too idly, breaking up the silence around him. "Everyone seems so cheery."

No one offered a direct answer. Some of them made noncommittal noises; others continued on with their work as if he hadn't spoken.

Jim tucked away his PADD, twisted around in his command chair, and did a slow survey of each crewman. He was drumming his fingers on the chair's arm by the time he reached the last station.

"Mr. Spock," he called.

The Vulcan turned around to face him. "Captain?"

Kirk crooked his finger in a gesture of _come here_. His First Officer obediently stepped down to the lower platform and the command chair there.

"I want to know something, Mr. Spock."

Spock just blinked at him.

"When was the crew informed that they were allowed to engage in... holiday spirit?" Kirk noted one or two of the other officers tensing at their stations but kept his gaze fixed on the Vulcan.

Spock replied, "Immediately after you approved the initiative, Captain. As you observed, crew morale has improved significantly." He stared intently at Kirk. "Is there a problem?"

"Of course not, Mr. Spock. I'm only saying—" Here, Jim grinned. "—how come no one told _me_ that I could start celebrating?"

The Vulcan tilted his head ever-so-slightly. "I believe the assumption was that you would begin right away."

Kirk relaxed back into his chair. "Good point, Commander. Now that we're on the same page... Mr. Sulu!"

The helmsman glanced over his shoulder.

Jim mimed shooting at him. "I just launched a packet to your console. Cue the music, my man!"

Sulu exchanged a look with Chekov as he replied, "Aye aye, sir."

A heavy metal version of "Jingle Bell Rock" began to play.

Spock returned to his station, whereupon Uhura leaned as close to him as she could and whispered, "Why do I have an ominous feeling?"

Spock studied the back of their captain's head and refrained from answering.

* * *

The woman who walked into Dr. McCoy's office unannounced wanted to know, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" McCoy questioned distractedly, sorting through various articles on his desk.

Nurse Chapel leaned one hip against the corner of his desk. "You're the only one I know who still insists on paper copies of reports."

"Can't help it," Leonard replied. "I'm old-fashioned." He added, "But you haven't seen a paper-hoarder until you've had a look at the Captain's book collection. At least I recycle."

Christine picked up a leaflet, turned it over in her hand, frowning. "This isn't a report."

"It's an idea," replied the man, finally looking up to take the paper out of her hand. He collected all the other pieces of paper on his desk into a stack and tucked them out of sight.

"So, it is true," his head nurse decided. She waved a hand at the drawer where he had put away his project. "That has something to do with it."

McCoy leaned back in his desk chair and just looked at her.

She smiled. "I won't ask. I wouldn't want to risk spoiling the surprise."

The doctor pursed his mouth. "There might not be one if I don't decide soon I want to do." His sigh was loud and agitated. "What was I thinking, Christine?"

She gave him a strange look, asking, "Are you sure you want me to answer that question?"

He dropped his gaze to his desk. "Better not."

Her voice held a hint of fondness. "Leonard McCoy, why are you such a sweet man?"

McCoy fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. He mumbled something under his breath.

With a laugh, she said dismissively, "I'm not here to lament the fact that yet another good man is taken."

"Thank god."

"What I want to know," she continued on in a firmer tone, "is what perks this department gets from your cute little Kirk-crush."

He sputtered.

Christine waggled her finger. "I heard other departments are holding holiday parties or game days."

He stared at her.

"Mr. Spock agreed to let Science build a gingerbread house. Engineering wants to put on a play." She sniffed. "As of right now, we're the most boring department on this ship."

Leonard snapped upright and thumped a fist on his desk, rattling a few PADDs. "Medical is not boring!"

Her eyes twinkled. "That's what I'm saying, Doctor!"

McCoy pushed to his feet. "Nurse Chapel, call an emergency staff meeting." He started for his office door, grumbling, " _Hobgoblin_ —tryin' to show up his own—"

As soon as her boss left, Christine leaned forward and pressed a button by the desk intercom. "Geoff," she said, "it's Christine."

A man's voice came over the line. "Did it work?"

"Like a charm," the woman chuckled. "Operation Handicrafts is a go."

* * *

"Oooh... It's beginning to look a lot like CHRISTMAS... Ev'rywhere you go! Take a look in the five-and-ten, glistening once again, with candy canes and silver lanes aglo—OWW! Hey, that hurt!"

"Stop singing," warned the person who had popped the singer. "People will _hear_ you."

"That's the point!" replied the happy-looking, brown-haired man. He stood on a chair, a measuring device in one hand. "I want to share my Christmas cheer!"

A woman with red hair passed by, saying, "Not all of us celebrate Christmas, Andy."

"But..."

"I do not understand this festival," joined in a humanoid with a blue coloring that closely resembled an Andorian. "Why would an obese human try to break into a person's home by using a receptacle he could not fit through?"

Some of the group laughed. Others shook their heads and returned to their tasks.

A petite-sized man spoke up. "Look, no matter who likes to celebrate—or not celebrate—during this time of year, we all volunteered to be part of this Decorating Committee. Am I right?"

One hand shot up in the air. "I didn't volunteer!"

The person next to him, namely the ensign's roommate, threw a string of popcorn garland at his head.

At a table, a woman, short, dark hair curling about her ears, completed her count of paper snowflakes and said, "I think this party was a grand idea. It's for the Captain, after all."

The committee decided they could agree on that, and the work resumed.

Some time later, a communicator buzzed. An officer answered it nonchalantly, then froze. Finally whipping around to face his companions, panic showed on his face. "Red alert!" he cried. "Kirk sighting!"

Chaos ensued. The guy on the chair fell off backwards with a screech (and luckily landed on top of two bystanders). The red-haired woman began frantically shoving the popcorn garland into a box. Another pair hastily rolled up a partly decorated banner. The poor ensign who had been commandeered into this duty by his roommate dropped a large bag and disappeared in a cloud of glitter.

When said captain arrived minutes later, everyone was sitting about a small round table, cards in hand, hair and clothes somewhat askew. One of them laughed nervously when Kirk spotted them; his neighbor kicked him under the table. The officers were concentrating so very hard on not being noticed that an awkward pause ensued after Kirk approached the table and greeted them.

"Oh... Hello, Captain," the red-haired woman, Marla, replied.

Kirk smiled at her. "I see you all are having some fun this evening. Poker?"

She blinked. "Sir?"

"What's your game?" Kirk clarified, still smiling.

The group sneaked glances at each other. They had each grabbed a handful of cards without deciding on what they were supposed to be playing.

One lieutenant said dutifully, "We're not gambling, sir. It's, ah, ah... _Go Fish_."

Another lieutenant scrunched his face up in confusion.

"A classic," their captain remarked amiably. His gaze sharpened, then, but he didn't add anything. He started to turn away and only paused when his attention landed on a particular person among them. "What happened to you?"

The ensign's face reddened.

Marla cut in, "It's... a new fashion, Captain."

Kirk opened his mouth then closed it again, a wry look on his face. He said, "Carry on," and headed back the way he had come.

When the door finally closed behind him, everyone melted with relief.

"That," announced the lead decorator, "was terrifying."

"What's Go Fish?" the man on his right wanted to know.

The glittery ensign whimpered. "Should I go to Medical? I'm starting to itch."

The dark-haired woman remarked, "I don't think we looked suspicious."

"Uh, yeah we did!" someone else argued. "We were the most suspicious of anyone who was ever under suspicion!"

"Suspicious or not, we need a new meeting place," Marla decided. "He could come back, and I really don't want us to be the ones who spoiled the surprise."

A chorus of agreement went around the table, and the group diligently gathered up their hastily hidden supplies.

* * *

Engineer Scott was happily minding his own business when somebody sneaked up behind him and whispered near his ear, " _Scotty!_ "

He cried out, whacking his head on the top of the maintenance tube in surprise. The surprise turned to pain and cursing.

"Hey, sorry," said the guy who had scared a decade off his life.

"Oh, of course," groused Scotty as he backed out of the tube. "It's you."

Kirk grinned at him. "Don't sound so happy to see me, Scotty."

The engineer waved a tool in his captain's face. "Can ye not see I'm busy?"

Jim propped a boot up on the edge of the tube's outer platform and leaned his weight forward on one knee. "I'm busy too," he said. "I'm trying to track down the source of a certain security program that's been tracking _me_."

"Oh," Scotty said, faltering. "You have?"

"You wouldn't happen to know who wrote that program, would you?" Jim questioned, still smiling.

"No. Nope. Of course not!" Scotty glanced around, looking for the quickest exit.

Jim continued to smile at him.

Scotty widened his eyes and cupped a hand around one ear like he could hear something. "What was that? Keenser! Sorry," he said to Kirk, "I think Keenser needs my help in the engine room. You know he's too short to man a Workbee."

"I like Keenser," Jim replied. "He's a man of few words."

Scotty laughed a little too loudly. "Oh, you're right about that... but he's definitely needing me in the engine room. Later, Jim!"

"Scotty!" Kirk called before the engineer made it to the opposite side of the ramp.

He turned back.

"It's weird, don't you think? That program."

Sweat broke out on the engineer's forehead. "Absolutely. I'm sure whoever made that is regretting it this very moment."

"I think so," replied Kirk, straightening up. He winked. "Keep up the good work, Mr. Scott."

Scotty hurried into the engine room where, ironically, Keenser was struggling to reach a console. Scotty jogged over to the Roylan and gave him a boost.

"Perfect Hair is on to us," he said.

Now standing on the console, the Roylan's unblinking black stare considered him.

"I know!" Scotty exclaimed, grabbing his head with both hands. "We're gonna have to think up a Plan B, C, _and_ D!"

* * *

The quiet, mid-shift hum of the arboretum was interrupted by an angry muttering: " _...can't believe...of all the...the ship's own captain!..._ " The muttering preceded a solitary figure striding along a raised walkway. He didn't appear to notice the beauty of the natural setting around him, so mired was he in his own misery.

Some flowers swayed gently as the man passed by, turning their flower-heads to follow his path like an audience of tiny curious children. Eventually the man's gait slowed of its own accord; his chin lifted and his eyes—of a color to match the artificial sky—took in the lazy drift of white clouds. He skimmed his surroundings and picked out a trail that cut around the edge of a grassy knoll. The knoll was occupied by two people sitting side-by-side on a blanket, the makings of a picnic between them. When one of them spied the newcomer, he called out courteously, "Good morning, Captain."

Captain Kirk returned the greeting and ducked his head, making a quick turn onto a side path that twisted through some of the greenery and disappeared. The arboretum was not overly large but a person could tuck himself into one of its few alcoves.

At the moment, Kirk felt that need to disappear. It was different than the urge to be alone to think, which often led him to the observation deck where he indulged in a kinship with the stars. This place, the botanical gardens, was the nearest thing the Enterprise had to an illusion of escape. So when Jim had to escape for fear that the pressure of his obligations might consume him, he came here. He was rarely disturbed, as though the other visitors also understood the significance of the arboretum.

He paused by the trunk of a tree. A glimpse of white in the distance had him holding his breath, pretending to be part of the tapestry of foliage. Soon enough, the botanist moved on, too intent on taking the daily readings of various plant species to notice a distinctly un-plant-like interloper.

Releasing his breath, Jim continued on. His feet carried him unerringly to his favorite spot in the entire gardens. There he sat down—and nearly jumped out of his skin when something shrieked next to his ear.

The noise grew in volume and insistent until Jim twisted around. The shrieker, a three-foot flower, paused long enough to allow Jim to apologize.

"I didn't mean to intrude..." Jim glanced down to read the identification card stuck in the ground. "...Gertrude. You must be new here."

Gertrude's pink flower petals rustled.

"Jim Kirk," he introduced himself, shading his eyes so he could get a better look at her. "I guess this is your spot now."

Gertrude snapped her petals together, then slowly unfurled them.

He didn't know what to make of that. The card said Gertrude was a weeper species—aptly named, he decided, since his ears were still ringing from her shrieks. He sighed and pushed to his feet.

"Sorry," he repeated.

As his feet found the trail, he glanced over his shoulder to find Gertrude's head angled towards him. Her silence gave him pause. Blinking, he shrugged off the odd feeling, and moved down the path.

The flower watched him go.

* * *

Leonard McCoy handed a small square disk to the woman at his elbow. "This should get you started." To the ship's computer, he said, "E Deck."

The turbolift began to ascend.

Nyota tapped the disk against the front of the data padd in her hand and read the contents that popped up on the screen. "I've never seen a list like this before."

"They're Christmas songs."

"As a music connoisseur, I thought I knew most of the twentieth century tunes. 'Deck the Halls'? What a strange name!"

"But a good suggestion," quipped Leonard. "Since it's going to be obvious something is afoot, I told Spock to report to Jim that we're forming a new wellness committee geared towards improving crew morale."

"So not a complete lie," she said, amused.

"You know Spock can't tell a lie," the man shot back.

He grinned, and they laughed.

"Thanks for this," Nyota said.

"Don't mention it. You're the most musically inclined, barring Spock—" Leonard bounced lightly on his toes, eyes twinkling with mischief. "—but no way am I putting a Vulcan in charge of organizing a caroling session."

"Spock is rather good," Nyota admitted. "He and I agree that I'm better."

"We all do, darlin'."

She put her hands on her hips. "Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Dr. McCoy."

He drawled, "Can't blame a man for tryin'. You're awful pretty."

Nyota smiled warmly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Just don't tell on me."

The woman winked. "Never, no matter how amusing it would be when Spock finds out."

"Oh, it's not Spock I'm worried about. It drives Jim crazy that you'll flirt with anybody but him." Leonard snickered. "On second thought, we should do this more often."

"You're terrible, Leonard."

"It's a joy to be terrible, believe me!" He cleared his throat, then, and leaned towards her. "I included another set of songs for the, uh, you know..."

"For that other matter we discussed?" she finished gently.

He nodded, expression sobering.

Uhura laid a hand on his arm. "Leave it to me."

"Thanks, Nyota."

She smiled at him as the computer announced the lift's arrival at their destination.

Leonard held out a hand, saying with charm, "Ladies first," and followed his friend and colleague into the corridor.

* * *

The pair who walked into the crew's messroom had to stop to take in their surroundings.

Chekov said, "Zhey decorated."

"I'm not sure I like the colors," Sulu replied, eyeing the red and green motif. "Did we sanction this?"

"It is festive. I smell food!" Chekov latched on to his companion's arm pulled him to the adjoining kitchen. "Cookies!"

A cheery blonde in a yeoman's uniform waved them inside.

"Hi, Janice," Chekov greeted her. "Can we help?"

Sulu gave the woman a polite nod. "Rand."

"You're just in time, you two. We need more hands." Janice Rand directed the men over to a counter where another man stood, looking like he couldn't quite figure out how he had gotten there. "You will be working with Danny."

"Hello," said Danny. "Did you fall for it too?"

Pavel blinked. "For what?"

Sulu sighed. "Apparently." He studied the items on the counter. "What are we doing exactly?"

"Decorating," answered Danny grimly.

Chekov stared down the long line of cookie trays. "So... no eating zhem?"

A spatula came down with a _crack_ near Chekov's hand. All three men jumped.

"These," Rand said in an authoritarian tone, "are not yours." She pointed her spatula at each one of them. "If I find one less cookie than should be accounted for, there will be hell to pay, boys."

"Rand," Sulu tried to say, "we're only here because—"

"Of the captain," she finished for him. "I heard. You and the Seniors set this in motion, Sulu, so man up!"

"Can we have one cookie each after we decorate zhem?" Chekov tried to bargain.

Janice narrowed her eyes. "These cookies go to Captain Kirk. I can see I need to keep my eye on you, Pavel. Now get to work! I have another three dozen for the ovens. We need to be done by lunchtime!"

"I hate the holidays," Sulu muttered.

"They do make people crazy," Danny added. "Wish I had taken my meal with the lads in Engineering."

Pavel began dispensing bakers' gloves. "Zhis will be fun," he said, although he no longer sounded certain of that. Holding up a tube of icing and a bowl of sprinkles, he questioned, "Red or green?"

Sulu groaned.

* * *

Gertrude the Weeper was actually a sweetheart. Jim discovered this on his third, rather desperate visit to the gardens after being brushed off or lied to by people he thought were his friends. He sought out his old spot, lonelier than he had ever felt, and discovered that this time Gertrude had no intention of scaring him away. Pretending he wasn't curious to know more about her, he sat on the ground and adopted a pose Spock had taught him.

The fact that Spock had been too busy as of late to join him for their morning meditation was not lost on Kirk. Really, it was no different than Leonard forgoing their ritual evening drink.

He thought he might have done something to cause them to push him away, but when he considered the matter from all angles, he could only conclude different. They had changed, _were_ changing—his worst fear come true. Rather than moving towards commitment, Bones and Spock had finally grown tired of his company. Maybe they had simply decided they liked each other better.

"Idiot," he chastised himself. "Don't borrow trouble." His head drooped. He was far past the point of succeeding in boosting his own confidence.

When Jim sighed, something gently brushed against his shoulder.

He didn't dare move while Gertrude inspected his shoulder and arm, her petals rustling across the fabric of his gold tunic.

When her exploration ceased, he joked, "You're not thinking about eating me, I hope."

The flower twisted around to face him, seemed to consider him before lengthening her stem and opening her petals to the sun. Unlike an earth flower, she had no stamens or carpels and did not reproduce by pollination. Though she was carnivorous, he had yet to see what organic matter she consumed to survive.

Jim knew his understanding of her species was limited. But that didn't stop him from expressing an honest opinion. "You're very beautiful."

Gertrude was waved her petals in the air, as if processing his statement. Then she began to trill. The trilling was much softer than her shrieks.

Jim turned the opportunity into an invitation. He faced her, propping his chin up on his hand and said, "Back in my day, I was known as quite the charmer... but I'll tell you a secret, Gertrude."

Her petals continued to wave.

"It takes a very special appeal to catch my eye." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "I think you're that kind of special."

Gertrude froze, then snapped her petals together to hide herself.

Jim laughed. "Was that too much?" When he heard a muffled shriek, he said, "All right, all right! I apologize."

Gertrude unfurled.

"Thank you, Gertrude," Jim said sincerely. "My mood has improved." When Gertrude angled towards him, he explained, "Sometimes I forget that being alone isn't the smartest solution." He paused, asked her politely, "Can I visit you again?"

The flower trilled.

He accepted that response as a _yes_.

* * *

Leonard's personal PADD beeped, alerting him to an incoming message. He glanced down, saw the message was from Jim, and immediately felt guilty. Between doing his day job and spending his evenings with various crewmen who knew more about event planning than he did, yet seemed to need his approval on every detail, he realized he was walking a fine line concerning his personal relationship with Jim. Jim had said nothing about their abbreviated good morning calls, the lack of aligned lunch and dinner schedules, or the fact that Leonard had only once slipped into the Captain's quarters in the last week and that was when Jim was already asleep. To make matters even worse, Leonard honestly had no idea if Spock was making an attempt to be with Jim in his absence.

If not... That scenario didn't bear thinking about.

Leonard started to reply to Jim's simple request of _Dinner?_ when his second-in-command, Dr. M'Benga, came around the corner in a hurry and said, "Medical alert, Doctor. The gymnasium."

Leonard set his PADD down on the nearest cart and picked up a medkit. He pointed to two of the staff in the room and said, "You're with me."

They ran all the way to the gym, which was about as far from Sickbay as it could be despite being on the same deck. It was unusually crowded. Leonard had to push through a tight group of bystanders and climb into what he could only describe as an arena.

"Wow," one of his nurses said as they finally caught a good look at the arena's occupants.

The other nurse whistled. "A gal doesn't see this every day."

"Which is a crying shame!"

A man dressed in hardly anything more than a loincloth and leather gauntlets waved his hand in the air to draw their attention. "Dr. McCoy! Over here!"

Behind the fellow, Leonard spotted a man laying motionless on the floor. He recognized Giotto despite his bizarre outfit, who knelt next to the injured officer, talking to him in a low tone.

When Leonard reached them, he dropped to one knee and scanned the patient, asking, "What happened?"

"Side-swiped by a spear," grunted Giotto.

Leonard forgot his tricorder for a second. "A _spear?_ "

The Chief of Security was known to be someone who didn't embarrass easily but in that moment Giotto looked like the most embarrassed person in the room. He coughed and answered more slowly, "Yes, Doctor. A spear."

Leonard's gaze took in the details of Giotto's outfit then the outfits of the other officers gathered around them. One fellow tugged self-consciously at straps of leather that barely covered his groin. Many of them did have spears in hand—along with wooden shields, metal helmets, and in one case a very large axe.

"What," McCoy said with a patience that belied the intensity of his tone of voice, "in god's name is going on here?"

"A festival, Doctor," Giotto replied, clearing his throat when he saw McCoy's incredulous expression. "Saturnalia. It's Roman. Pre-dates Christmas."

 _Lord Almighty_ , thought Leonard. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and finished reviewing the tricorder's results. To a nurse, he ordered, "Call for a gurney. Let's get this man to Sickbay."

The man in question groaned in dismay. "Mr. Giotto, I was winning, right?"

"It's not a competition," Giotto told his officer, but his tone of voice was far from stern as he added, "But you were doing great, son."

The man grinned lopsidedly at them all.

When the gurney arrived, McCoy and his team carefully loaded their patient. For a brief second, Leonard considered staying behind to find out just what possessed Security to host gladiatorial games with authentically replicated weapons, but he watched the men and women who came up to the gurney to congratulate their brother-in-arms for a battle well-fought and realized how hypocritical of him it would be to place the blame on their shoulders.

Giotto, who was watching him instead of the others, gave Leonard a tiny, knowing smile.

In the end, the doctor had to bite his tongue and tend to the concussed but stupidly grinning security officer without complaint.

* * *

Jim dropped his towel to the bed and flung his body long-ways across the end. He waited a moment, listening to the tap-tap-tapping from the nearby alcove, before turning on his side and propping his head up on one fist. He cleared his throat. A few seconds later, he cleared his throat a second time.

When nothing happened, Jim sighed and asked, "Is your work that interesting?"

"Yes, most interesting." The person paused, then, as if rethinking what he just said, and glanced at Jim. "Perhaps I should rephrase that statement?"

Jim just grinned. "I get it, Spock. Mathematics always trumps the sight of your naked partner."

Spock blinked. Then, slowly, he powered down his device. "You have my attention, Jim."

With a laugh, Jim flopped onto his back. "Forget it. I wasn't _that_ serious." He tucked an arm under his head and contemplated the ceiling. "But since I have your attention, I will pose a question." The skin around his eyes tightened, but his voice stayed congenial. "You're hiding something from me, Spock. How do I make you tell me what it is?"

Spock didn't answer him right away, which to Jim was damning enough.

"It's serious then," he concluded.

"Jim... I regret that I must tell you this. I have taken a vow of silence."

"Who would dare—!" he began with a hint of temper, only to fall silent. Then, " _Bones._ " Jim pulled his arm out from under his head and thumped a fist softly against the bedcovers.

The mattress dipped as Spock settled on the edge of the bed, hands tucked in his evening robe. "You are angry."

Jim looked at him. "Disappointed. I thought we would share every... I just thought we would share, Spock. Was I wrong?"

"No," Spock told him. "But I hope you will not think either of ill of us, Jim. Consider this situation as unique. Special news requires special timing. The real travesty would be to reveal a secret before its time."

A smile tugged at the corner of Jim's mouth. "That sounds like something Bones would say."

Spock's eyes took on a familiar glint. "He also convinced me in other ways."

"Oh," Jim said, his interest shifting, "did he?"

Spock's voice took on that slight rumbling quality that both Kirk and McCoy enjoyed. "Do you need to be convinced, Jim?"

Since his body was in eager agreement, he tugged at the fastenings of the Vulcan's robe. "I'll let you know how convinced I am in the morning."

"Fair enough," Spock replied, leaning down to capture his lover's hands and kiss him.


	2. Part Two

Usually Jim Kirk wasn't a man who stooped to eavesdropping on other people's conversations, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He had to know what was going on with his crew, for he could no longer deny that they were as involved in an operation he had not approved.

Arriving at the gym early for a morning workout, Jim had discovered the fitness forum was closed due to an event that left the area in need of serious repairs. In the outer hallway, he had tripped over a stick, nearly impaling himself on what appeared to be a broken spear; then he found out all of the gravity boots had been replaced with leather sandals. Wondering if he had gone crazy, he decided he would run around the indoor track a few times—only to find it covered in sand. So, it seemed, whatever had gone on at the gymnasium must have been a jolly good time. But not one of his staff reports mentioned it—perhaps even went out of the way to avoid mentioning it. At some point, his officers had agreed to host events, parties, and such without informing him.

Jim was unsettled, to say the least. He was also determined to find out why.

So it was that when two men unexpectedly entered the locker area, Jim considered it his good fortune. He ducked out of sight around a corner of lockers and strained to hear their conversation.

"—did you know about it?" one of the guys was saying.

"About that Roman festival?"

"That's old news. I heard Laundry Services got so wasted last night at their after-party to the toga party, they dyed all of D Deck's bedding. Purple and pink polka-dots!"

"Ah shit, really? I'm on D Deck..."

"Sorry, man. Hey, wanna hear something else?"

 _Yes,_ Jim thought, pressed right against a locker.

"Because of the influx of gift requests, everybody in Requisitions quit!"

"What!" Jim cried out, only to slap a hand over his mouth belatedly.

"Hey, I think I heard someone..."

"Should be pretty dead, with the equipment all busted up. Hello?"

Jim took a peek around the corner and saw one of the men moving towards his area. Cursing under his breath, he hastily stripped out of his clothes, tucked a towel around his waist, and backed up into the sauna. Draping a smaller hand towel over his face, he pretended he had just exited it and was preoccupied with scrubbing his hair. Unfortunately, it was so difficult to navigate without being able to see more than the floor at his feet that he walked right into the officer who had come to investigate.

"Sorry," Jim said in his scratchiest voice.

"No problem."

Jim started to slip by but a hand dropped to his shoulder at the last second.

The guy remarked, "You look new."

 _Really? You can tell that without seeing my face?_ Jim coughed, realizing that his plan to eavesdrop might not have been the smartest idea. "Uh, yeah."

"What department?"

Nope, definitely not the smartest. He couldn't remember what color their uniforms were, so he took a wild guess. "Communications."

"I didn't know they'd brought another fellow in. Come to think of it... My pal John over there works in Communications." The man was starting to sound suspicious of his faceless buddy.

"I'm _brand_ new," Jim insisted quickly. "Just off the base. I, uh, wanted to check out the digs before I reported in."

Silence. Then, "That's not kosher, man. There's protocol and regulations—"

Now sweating in earnest, Jim pulled away from the guy's grip. "Yeah," he agreed, "it was a mistake. Got that now. Bye!"

He fled around the corner, past a startled John and nearly took a dive over a bench in his flight. At long last, he was able to dart through the main door.

In corridor, Jim dragged the towel from his head and released an explosive sigh—only to realize he was now standing in public in a single towel slung across his hips.

A crewman exited the women's locker room across the hallway and did a double-take at seeing an nearly naked Captain Kirk. Blushing, Jim futilely tried to stretch out the hand towel across his exposed upper torso. She shook her head and walked on by without saying a word.

Kirk heard several voices down the corridor, moving unerringly in his direction.

Uh-oh, he thought. He was in plenty of trouble now!

* * *

Loud shouts issued forth from the messroom. The disturbance had a cadence not unlike mutiny and turned the heads of several passers-by. A volley of reports ran up the chain of command; when the volume hit critical mass, the First Officer was notified.

As Mr. Spock entered the messroom, several cries met his ears almost immediately. People were exclaiming in various degrees of outrage: "This is a sick joke!"

"Nooo, why is this happening?"

"Who's going to take responsibility?"

"I just wanted toast. Why is there no toast?"

The complaints ceased almost all at once when the crowd finally spied the Vulcan commander. Their silence lasted all of three seconds, and the clamor began anew and with more ferocity. One brazen man pushed to the forefront of the group, latched onto Mr. Spock's arm and wailed in apparent devastation.

"Mr. Scott!" Spock said in alarm, for he had never seen the human react with such despair.

"My sandwich, Mr. Spock—ruined!"

"Mr. Scott..."

His wail grew in volume. " _It's unforgivable!_ "

"Lieutenant-Commander, you must get a hold of yourself if I am to assist you," Spock insisted. "Report."

The man stared at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Eggnog, sir. Nothing but eggnog!"

The Vulcan's eyebrows pinched together. "What is eggnog?"

"That!" replied the Chief of Engineer, throwing his arm out wildly to the left.

Spock ordered everyone to stand aside and moved towards the replicators—or rather, half-dragged Mr. Scott alongside him since the man refused to be detached.

The Vulcan considered the first replicator thoughtfully before he punched in the food code for salad cubes. To his surprise, he was rewarded with a gelatinous blob in a bowl. He moved on to the next replicator station where he attempted another code. The result, which should have been a cup of water, was a cloudy liquid that no one should be forced to consume.

He turned to the hundred or so crewmen who had been watching his actions intently and experienced the uncomfortable sensation that they expected him to fix the machine malfunction right then and there and declare it fit for use.

Out of caution, he directed a question to the engineer at his elbow. "Has Maintenance been informed of this issue?"

"About a thousand times over, I'd say," came the reply. Mr. Scott wiped his nose on his red shirt sleeve. "Replicators have gone haywire all over the ship."

"Most..." Spock paused, swallowed the word 'interesting'. "...unfortunate."

"What do we do? Everything that monster spits out is made of eggnog!"

"Is this substance lacking in nutrients?"

For the first time since he had grabbed Spock, Scotty chuckled a little. "Do you want a drunk crew manning this ship?"

He certainly did not.

The chuckle faded. "Mr. Spock, who would be so evil as to take away the sandwiches?" the engineer asked piteously. "We'll starve!"

"Food synthesizers can be reprogrammed. In the interim, no one shall starve, Mr. Scott." Spock approached a wall intercom. "Spock to Bridge."

Uhura answered. "Mr. Spock, I'm not getting anything clearer than sounds of distress from all quarters of the ship."

"I have been briefed on the underlying cause, Lieutenant. Please alert Food Service that we will be releasing the ration cube reserves. Each crewmen aboard shall be allowed two cubes apiece as substitutions for their daily meals."

A wave of dismay went around the room.

"For those individuals who do not wish to take advantage of the emergency rations, we have two specialty kitchens aboard the ship. A team of chefs shall be assigned to begin food preparation immediately, with dishes to be served until supplies run out. Please notify all affected parties in a communiqué."

"Yes, sir."

Spock ended the call. He turned and blinked in confusion when the crewmen around him burst into applause.

"Given the correct resources," he announced as the applause abated, "I estimate the replicators will resume proper functioning within the next solar day."

"You're a hero, Mr. Spock," Scotty said, beaming at him.

Spock began to assure the man he had only done his duty but stopped to consider the fact that to humans, apparently, proper sustenance was of the utmost importance. "You are welcome," he replied. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to the Bridge."

The Vulcan left the messroom at a quicker pace than usual, but he did not anticipate that the news of his solution would travel faster than the intra-ship communications; so when crewmen continually stopped in the corridors upon spying him to applaud his quick thinking, he found himself altering his course. There was one person who would say, "Good job, Spock," and let him have his peace.

It surprised Spock to learn that Jim was not where Spock assumed he would be—that Jim had, in fact, not been seen that day and was keeping to an erratic schedule. Considering this unusual news, Spock returned to bridge duty.

* * *

Jim stepped off the path and squatted down by a closed flower. "Hello, Gertrude. Are you well?" He stroked the outer skin of the bloom's petals, and she rustled. "I hope you don't mind my company today. I embarrassed myself earlier and need to hide for a while."

Jim sat down at the edge of the flower bed and sighed. Looking upwards, he shielded his eyes from the artificial sunlight. "It's not the same, is it?"

A petal cautiously peeked open.

"The light gives no warmth," Jim explained, lowering his hand. His fingers touched the ground, shifted through loose particles of dirt. "Space is the coldest place a person can go. Sometimes the unfriendliest. Do you miss your home planet, Gertrude?"

He pulled his personal PADD out of his pocket and flicked on the screen. "Here," he said, turning the holographic image of a group of people towards her. "That's my mom, Sam, and me. Sam's the kid with the goofy grin. I'm not grinning because he had just invented a new nickname for me. Scrubby." Jim snorted. One of Gertrude's petals unfurled. "His version of calling me short and dirty."

He studied the fourth person in the background without naming him, then swiped to the next hologram. It was a miniature of a man in a cadet uniform, back straight, blond hair neatly combed, but blue eyes twinkling. "My father," Jim said, "at his Academy graduation. He looks real. I never met him." The next holo-pic made Jim face away for a moment. "Christopher Pike," he said, voice tight. "Also gone."

Gertrude quivered and peeled back two more petals.

When the last hologram in the group appeared, the lines in Jim's face disappeared. Moving the PADD closer to Gertrude, he pointed at the figures and smiled. "Now these two, if they knew I had this, I would be dead." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Can you say 'blackmail', Gertrude?" He grinned, finally admitted, "Okay, okay, I'm not that evil. But it's a fantastic picture, right? Bones is even drooling a little on Spock's shoulder."

Jim lifted to the hologram to his eye-level and rotated it in his hand. "The best part is they're all mine. No one else is allowed to see them this way."

Gertrude's flower-head was fully open now, her stem bent towards Jim and the PADD.

Jim crossed his legs and set the device in his lap, its projected hologram still floating on air.

"Family is all we have, Gertrude. For a long time I had convinced myself I could do without it but... Well, let's just say if you leave and manage to come back, you'll see things differently. Not everything, of course. Just some things, little things. Like how you think of someone, or how much you like him. Them. You realize a second chance isn't to be taken for granted. I don't intend to waste my second chance."

Deactivating the hologram, Jim made a sound of amusement. "Even if my plan isn't moving along as quickly as I would like. Stubborn bastards."

Gertrude straightened her stem and upturned her face to the sunlight.

As Jim watched her, he mused, "I wonder who was your family, if you miss them."

A delicate quiver ran along the flower's stem.

He said kindly, "Well then. No worries, my dear. In this family, there's always room for one more."

* * *

The main event commenced in two days. As the time drew nigh, some of the crew grew frantic; others, calmer. For Spock, he had a list and he was checking it twice. The list had been shoved into his hands at lunchtime by a harried Leonard. "Help me out, hobgoblin," the doctor had pleaded. "I'm going crazy!"

Spock found checking items off the list to be very calming. With this attitude, he walked into the recreational room that had been designated as the venue for their celebratory affair—and nearly lost his grip on his padd.

A lieutenant in a parka shuffled past him, rubbing his hands together. For a moment, Spock's body had no inclination to move forward. Luckily, the officer he had been seeking came to him.

"Mr. Jaeger," he began.

"Mr. Spock! Good to see you, old chap." Lieutenant Karl Jaeger beamed at him good-naturedly from beneath a knit cap topped with ear muffs. "You're here to check on our progress, yes? We're almost done setting up." He swept his mittens outwards. "What do you think?"

Spock checked the item on his list again. "Mr. Jaeger, what was the description of your task?"

"What do you mean, sir? This is my assignment."

A cry of " _What in hell is this?_ " overrode any response the Vulcan might have given.

The exclamation heralded the arrival of McCoy. The CMO's expression would have been a comical sight if the men and women in the room didn't already know his question was a prelude to an frightening explosion. Spock had the inkling it would take more than an explanation to calm his partner down.

Jaeger, however, appeared quite unconcerned as McCoy stalked across the room towards them. The louder the doctor's boots crunched across the floor, the darker his expression became.

"Karl!" McCoy snapped. "Have you lost your mind? I've got crewmen coming into Sickbay with frost-bite and sudden onset of hypothermia!"

Karl frowned. "Dr. McCoy, I gave you what you asked for." Again he waved his mittens around. "Snow."

A vein throbbed in McCoy's forehead. "Good god, man, I didn't want real snow!"

The other man pursed his mouth in dismay. "I am meteorologist, sir. I don't do fake weather." He looked to Spock but Spock wisely did not pick a side.

Karl huffed, turned on his heel, and strode off.

Spock watched a snowflake land on the tip of Leonard's nose. "With scientists, it is often wiser to be specific in your request."

McCoy pressed his mouth together and continued glaring at Jaeger's back.

Spock exhaled quietly and activated the nearest wall comm. "Please evacuate Rec Room II for repairs and clean-up, and reset the environmental controls for the deck."

"Great," muttered McCoy, white air pluming from his mouth. "Just _great_."

Spock sensed a different type of storm brewing than the one in their current location and followed Leonard to the corridor.

* * *

Leonard stormed ahead of his companion into his personal quarters. "Disaster—it's all a complete disaster!"

"Computer, lights forty percent," said the Vulcan on his heels. "There have been a few setbacks."

"A few?" snapped McCoy incredulously. "The ship has no food other than eggnog, half of G Deck in experiencing a blizzard, I've got people in Sickbay with allergic reactions to _glitter_ , apparently Jim decided to visit the gym in the nude yesterday, speaking of which I've more than eyeful of greased up naked bits because the whole damn Security department went crazy over playing Spartacus!"

Spock commented wisely, "There are some details which I should never know, Doctor."

Leonard whirled around and pointed a finger at him. "Don't patronize me!"

"I am not."

"Argghh!" he cried, extremely close to grabbing at his own hair in frustration. "You don't understand, Spock. This was supposed to go off without a hitch!"

Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

Damn the Vulcan, thought Leonard. He took several deep breaths and laughed bitterly. "Fine, I admit that I should have known. When has anything ever gone according to plan on this godforsaken starship?"

The Vulcan came forward, then. "Leonard, it is evident to me that you are distraught for reasons other than recent mishaps. I am here to listen," he reminded the man.

Leonard closed his eyes. "Damn. I can't hide anything from you anymore, can I?"

Spock, his tone equally soft, challenged, "Why try to?"

The Vulcan removed his hands from behind his back and relaxed his stance ever so slightly.

Leonard's eyes stung as he recognized the silent invitation. He moved forward into the Vulcan's embrace.

Spock lightly cupped Leonard's elbows, and Leonard leaned into him.

"You cannot expect perfection. No one will expect it of you."

"I didn't want it would be perfect, Spock, just special. This is not special."

"Is that for you to judge?"

"What do you mean?"

"The person who receives the gift decides whether or not it is special."

Leonard murmured, "Jim's going to laugh."

Spock held silently for a moment, then said, "Ten credits."

Leonard pulled back far enough to look at him. "I can't have heard you right."

"Ten credits," repeated the Vulcan. "If Jim's reaction is positive, you will pay me ten credits. If I am wrong, I will pay you ten credits."

"You are uncannily human sometimes, Spock."

"I do not believe my offer calls for an insult, Leonard."

Leonard huffed, grinned, and said, "Sweetheart, you've got a deal."

* * *

Figuring the 'I accidentally exposed myself to my crew' fiasco was forgotten (no one had dared to look twice at Kirk for some reason in the corridors), Jim tried to distract himself with paperwork. He hated paperwork, so maybe it wasn't his best choice of distraction but he was lacking in other captain-ly duties to perform as of late.

As he entered his office, he welcomed a distraction to his distraction, which came in the form of tin canister sitting innocuously on his desk. The note attached to it read: _For Captain Kirk, From Secret Santa_.

Jim had to think long and hard for a few seconds to recall what a Santa was, but once he did, the package became twice as intriguing. Lifting the lid, he was astonished and thrilled by the contents: two dozen cookies. The majority of the cookies, strangely enough, had red eyes and green frowns but the first two tasted delicious.

Jim double-checked his surroundings and ate another three cookies with his back to the door just in case someone—namely a certain doctor—happened to stop by unannounced. Bones would rant about bad food choices once he saw them.

It seemed to Jim, then, that the only reasonable action was to finish off the tin before he was caught. After all, a communiqué in his inbox the day prior had stated that all replicators were on the fritz, and everybody knew how awful ration cubes tasted. Satisfied with his rationalizations, he dug in.

An hour later, his fingers only found crumbles at the bottom of the tin. Since the sweets had helped him get through the paperwork, he decided an afternoon in the office wasn't a terrible way to spend a day. In fact, now that he thought more about it, this Secret Santa person by rights should become his official cookie baker.

So how to find out who it was?

His door chimed, and his yeoman Janice Rand came in.

Jim groaned when he saw the stack in her arms. "Not more paperwork."

As she came forward, her walk slowed considerably. "Paperwork is a captain's livelihood! Wait, is that—did you—?"

He saw she was looking at the empty tin on the corner of his desk. "Oh. Someone left me cookies!" He surreptitiously wiped the corners of his mouth. "I, ah, had one or two." How horrible would be to admit to eating all of them? Wait, he couldn't do that. Rand could very well inform McCoy of how naughty he'd been.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs nonchalantly. "I shared the rest with the bridge crew." He blinked, frowned as her face changed color. "Janice, what's wrong?"

"You," the woman started, stopped. She firmed up her lips, came forward, and practically threw the reports in his lap. He hugged them close to his chest so they didn't scatter.

"Cookies are _bad_ for you, Captain," the woman chastened him.

Jim's eyes widened.

Rand leveled her finger just under his nose. "You'll never see another cookie as long as I'm your yeoman. Understand?"

Clearly telling her about the cookies had been a grave tactical error. "But," he began.

The woman snatched up the tin and stomped out of his office.

Jim slumped into his chair and said morosely, "I'm sorry, Secret Santa. I could have loved you!"

* * *

"Spock? Spock, are you in here? I just had the weirdest conversation with Jim's yeoman..."

Leonard fell silent once he reached the wall partition that separated Spock's bedroom from the main cabin of the First Officer's quarters. Because the lights weren't on, he had guessed that Spock wasn't there.

How wrong he was.

Strange movements in the dark drew him farther into the cabin. There was light: it licked off the furniture and walls, elongated shapes, sent them dancing. Spock's shadow was the only thing that stood quite still—as did Spock himself. At first he appeared mesmerized by the lit candles on the desk, but as Leonard came farther into the cabin Spock murmured his name.

Leonard's instincts told him to proceed with care, and so he did, not saying anything for a long minute.

Eventually he had to ask, "Is that a menorah?" The man winced afterwards, for the question had sounded dumb to his own ears.

But Spock answered him. "Quite correct. This chanukiah was given to me some years ago by my mother."

"Oh," said Leonard. "I didn't know your mother was Jewish."

"Mother was not Jewish," Spock explained, "but she considered it appropriate to observe a tradition that once held special meaning for her ancestors. When I lived at home, I would light the candles for her if she was traveling with my father."

Leonard circled the desk, pressed the intercom, and murmured, "Jim, Spock's quarters." Then he said to Spock, already having an inkling as to the answer, "Is this the first year you've lit the candles since her death?"

A different kind of shadow flickered across the Vulcan's face. "Affirmative."

Leonard nodded slightly and took a seat on the edge of Spock's bed. Moments later, the door to the cabin slid back, admitting Kirk. Leonard beckoned him over to the bed.

As Jim took a seat, he directed a question to Leonard in a hushed tone, reading the situation as Leonard had. "The menorah?"

"For Amanda," Leonard replied, voice equally soft.

Jim turned his face towards their Vulcan, who looked at neither man, only at the candles. Leonard found Jim's hand and laced their fingers together.

The occupants of the room shared a moment of silence to honor the memory of a remarkable woman, a mother who had raised a son of two worlds with unfaltering love and left their universe too soon.

In the end, Spock left the candles burning and came to them, accepting their wordless consolation. None of them had ever, or would ever, spurn each other in his grief.

* * *

For the first night in two weeks, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy had shared the same bed. Jim woke to find Spock and Leonard still sleeping. Something inside him demanded acknowledgement, became implacable. He was _not_ going to lose them. Only a fool refused to fight for a love like theirs.

And so, when one of them roused, Jim was lying in wait for him. A bleary-eyed McCoy stumbled towards the bathroom and found himself locked out. Once he spotted a fully dressed Kirk seated across the room, he complained, "I think your door's stuck."

"It's not stuck," Jim replied evenly.

Leonard looked at him strangely, then tried the door again. Jim heard the mumble, "What the hell?"

Cranky now, Leonard pulled on a pair of pants, no doubt thinking he would have to go through Spock's quarter just to relieve himself.

Jim said nothing as McCoy passed by. It was a long minute later when the man returned, finally looking more alert.

"Jim," he demanded, "what in blazes is going on?"

Jim said, "Lockdown."

His lover was taken aback. "I didn't hear an alert."

"You should wake Spock up," Jim suggested.

"Of course," McCoy replied automatically, hurrying to a side of the bed. "You should have gotten us both up! I can't believe I would sleep through a klaxon, let alone that Spock would..." The man's sentence trailed off suddenly, but it was too late. He had brushed his fingertips against the side of the Vulcan's face.

Spock's eyes opened. His voice was rough but aware as he identified the man leaning over him as Leonard.

Jim drew in a quiet breath, shifted to lock his hands over knees. Now it could begin.

McCoy stared at Spock briefly before he said carefully, "We have a problem."

Spock sat up. He turned his head when he caught sight of Jim at the small work station by the wall.

Leonard straightened up and turned partly towards Jim too. His voice had an odd flatness to it as he said, "Jim's locked us in."

Spock came out of the bed, then, looking terribly alert for someone who had been in a deep sleep only seconds before.

Jim experienced a moment's guilt. By protocol, the only reason to lock down a crewman's quarters was in the event of enemy infiltration. Spock, like McCoy, would be horrified to awaken and find that something disastrous had happened to the Enterprise while they were unaware.

"It's not the ship, Spock," he said.

Leonard started forward. "Jim, whatever this is, unlock the doors first. Then we can talk."

Jim pressed his mouth into a flat line. "No."

Spock looked between them before he gave Jim his full attention. He sounded close to pained when he said, "Your behavior is unreasonable, Captain."

"I'm not your captain right now," Jim told them. "I'm the man you've been dating for the last ten months, who suddenly you decided you didn't want anymore. Both of you owe me an explanation. We'll stay here for as long as it takes for you to give it."

"Jim," Leonard began.

"I'm done, Bones. No more disappearing acts, no more lying or distraction."

"Leonard," Spock said softly, "it is time. He must be told."

Jim expected McCoy to react in one of several different ways but he didn't foresee the man dropping to the edge of the bed and putting his head in his hands like Jim had just given him horrifying news.

"My god. One more day. We were so _close_." McCoy peeled his hands away from his face, revealing a glare. "Damn it, Jim!"

...Damn it, Jim? _Damn it, Jim?_

Jim hesitated. "This doesn't sound like a break up."

"It's the sound of me wanting to throttle you!" cried Leonard, who jumped up and looked like he would have done just that if Spock hadn't stepped in his way.

Jim came to his feet, hands splayed. "Whoa there. Why are you angry with _me?_ I'm the victim here. I should be angry." The more he thought about it, the more righteous he felt. "That's right, I _am_ angry. At you!" He pointed his finger. "And you! I'm so angry I could—"

Solemnly Spock lifted his hand, index finger and forefinger extended.

Jim backed up, his angry diatribe faltering. "What are you doing?"

The Vulcan tilted his head. "Is this not the kiss-and-make-up part of the argument?"

"No, I'm—damn it—I'm yelling at you."

"Oh." Spock lowered his hand. "You may continue."

Jim sputtered and looked to McCoy, whose expression was far less upset than it had been moments ago. "Can he do that?" he asked incredulously.

"He probably thinks our yelling is illogical," Leonard said dryly.

"But I was having a moment!"

"Moment over," countered the man. He darted forward, grabbed Jim's arm, and reeled Jim in. "C'mere, you." Leonard tucked his face into Jim's shoulder, murmuring, "Sorry I yelled."

Jim's anger, the stupid thing, had abandoned him. He wrapped an arm around McCoy's back, grateful to be able to pull him in closer. "You scared me," he admitted.

"I know. I guess this whole plan really was a bad idea."

Jim lifted his head. "What plan?"

Leonard's sigh stirred Jim's hair. Leonard pulled back, but before he had a chance to speak, Spock cut in with "Leonard, if you will recall the strategy I shared with you. It did account for an expedited timeframe."

McCoy's face suddenly brightened. "The contingency!"

"Correct."

"I'm still lost here, guys," Jim pointed out.

Leonard turned to him. "Jim, can you wait for answers until the end of today's shift?"

Jim had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Why can't you give me an answer now?"

"Darlin'," the man drawled, "I will cry if I'm not allowed to surprise you at least a little."

"Consider me completely surprised, Bones." He hesitated, finally nodded. "I can wait."

Leonard kissed him, and the kiss convinced Jim that he had made the right choice.

Spock held up his hand again. This time Jim obliged him.

* * *

"The Captain has arrived!"

The call did indeed herald Kirk's arrival. He was closely followed by Spock and McCoy.

"There he is," said the woman leaning against the Bridge's upper platform railing. "The man I want to strangle."

Jim stopped dead. "You can't strangle me, Uhura."

"Oh, I can," she said. She indicated the others on the Bridge. "And I have plenty of hands to help me bury the body."

"Easier to eject it into space," pointed out McCoy.

"I'm not liking this surprise so far," Jim decided.

Nyota rolled her eyes. She said to the man next to her, "I stayed up all night to finish a day ahead of schedule because somebody had ants in his pants, and all I get for my trouble is sass."

Leonard deadpanned, "Welcome to my world."

Jim crossed his arms and studied each member of his alpha bridge crew in turn. "Do I need to pull out the Captain card?"

The people around him groaned. The hand that dropped to his shoulder belonged to McCoy. Jim let himself be steered to the Ready Room off the side of the bridge.

"Just so you know, we have something more elaborate planned for tomorrow," Leonard was saying as they filed in the room. "This is just from a few of us because, well, partly because you gave me the 'you hurt my feelings' speech and also because Spock's amazing at planning for all scenarios."

Jim would have replied if his ability to speak hadn't been blown away by a brilliant floor-to-ceiling evergreen.

"Yes, he's speechless!" Pavel high-fived Scotty.

"What is this?" Jim managed to ask.

McCoy's hand slid away from him.

Jim stepped forward, stopped, went forward again. "What is this?" he repeated, taking in the rest of the room. The walls, the floor, the tree, the tables—all of it glittered with color, a sharp contrast from the usual stark white of the ship's decor. The tree itself was bursting with ornaments of hues to match their uniforms. Jim had never seen anything like it in his life.

He had to turn away just to give his brain time to adjust. He looked at the men and women gathered behind him.

"What is this?" he asked for the third time.

"Christmas!" crowed Scotty.

"Hanukah," Spock added more quietly.

Nyota said, "Giving thanks."

"Yuletide, Saturnalia, turning of the seasons. Any old plain reason to celebrate will do, Jim," Leonard told him, "because what we call it doesn't matter." He shared a look with Spock before he finished, "It's for you. Happy holidays, Captain."

They all joined in, echoing, "Happy holidays!"

Scotty, looking cheery in a Christmas vest nobody had imagined he owned, threw out his hands. "And may your days be merry and bright. Now on to the presents!"

Jim's brain had lapsed again at the part where Bones had said they had done this for him. He was herded by Pavel on his left and Sulu on his right in Scotty's wake. A nicely wrapped gift was stuffed into his hands.

Jim just held onto it.

Leonard showed up in his peripheral vision, pointing at the Chief Engineer. "This man is going to have an apoplexy if you don't get with the program, Captain. He's done nothing but talk about how amazing his present was going to be."

"That's not my present," said Scotty.

Jim still had a hard time forming words around the lump in his throat. "I don't... know what to say."

Uhura hugged his side. "So don't say anything. Just open it." She smiled. "It's from me."

His hands moved of their own accord, picking at wrapping and tape. When the packaging fell away, fabric unfolded in his arms.

His brain caught up in real time. "It's a sweater." These crazy people had decorated his Ready Room and gotten him gifts. This sweater was his. From Uhura.

He turned to the woman beside him, his face lit by a wide grin. "You gave me a sweater."

"I _made_ you a sweater," she corrected.

A laugh burst out of him. "Oh my god!" He inspected it more closely.

"I think it's lopsided," Sulu said critically.

Nyota's sigh was loud but she seemed no less enthused. "Yes, Hikaru, it is lopsided. I tried, okay?"

Jim's eyes sparkled. "You certainly did." He tugged the sweater over his head. The knitted material pinched like a band around his chest, flared out at the ends, and one sleeve was distinctly longer than the other, making him look one-handed. He laughed again, with delight. "I love it!"

Nyota considered him. "It's not nice to lie, Captain."

Jim flapped his arms and cackle-laughed.

"I don't think Jim's lying," Leonard remarked dryly. "He has atrocious taste in clothing." The man winced as soon as the sentence left his mouth.

But the woman only rolled her eyes. "Atrocious or not, I hope he keeps the damn thing. I didn't labor for days under Lt. Moreau's supervision to have it thrown in the recycler. Besides, it was my first knitting project." She flipped her ponytail, declaring staunchly, "I'll do better next time."

Scotty murmured to McCoy, "Och, I feel bad for the poor bastard who has to wear the next one."

"I'll make a hat for Scotty," Nyota decided.

Leonard smirked and patted his friend sympathetically on the shoulder.

Jim was handed the next present, an easily recognizable shape wrapped in colored paper. Once he removed the wrapping, he inspected the unlabeled bottle by uncorking it and sniffing it. Eyes wide, he leaned back and remarked, "Strong."

"Should be strong, Keptin," Chekov said cheerfully. "Zhat is real Russian vodka!"

Immediately Leonard tried to take the bottle away. Jim, of course, refused to give it up.

His CMO said suspiciously, "Where's this from?"

Pavel looked innocent.

Spock disappeared momentarily and returned with a working tricorder. After scanning the bottle, he handed the device to McCoy.

"Pavel," Leonard gasped, "this percentage could kill a man!"

The young man shrugged one shoulder. "Tis vat we drink in my family." He told Jim, "I noticed your chest lacks hair, Keptin. Zhis will cure you. My grandfather swears by zhe recipe."

Jim self-consciously rubbed a hand against his chest as he gave McCoy a pitiful look. "Can't I keep it, Bones?"

Leonard's mouth pressed into a flat line. He said grudgingly, "You can have a taste... under my supervision."

Jim high-fived Pavel and happily stuck the bottle on a table and sat down. When Scotty gave him a rectangular box with a bow, Leonard murmured, "That's from me," and seemed to take a step back.

Mystified by this reaction, Jim carefully removed the bow and the lid. At first he thought Leonard had bought him a large old paperbound book—until he opened the cover.

"The images are flat," he said dumbly as he turned one decorated page after another, filled with pictures of his crew.

"Centuries ago, there was an archiving technique called scrapbooking," Spock replied, for Leonard had scooted around to the far side of their group. "Many Terrans seemed to enjoy this activity, as Leonard has."

As Jim studied the contents of the book more closely, the story became clearer: Scotty balanced precariously on a ladder by the tree, tinsel draped over his shoulders; Spock's staff of scientists sitting in the main briefing room, piecing together a delicate gingerbread house; people looking confused at snow gently falling in a corridor; a man sliding across an icy floor on his stomach. In one photo, Bones was asleep with his head buried in his arms, the makings of the scrapbook next to him; in another, Spock surveyed a banner with his name on it held up proudly by the group of officers Jim had come upon playing cards.

He looked up, once again at a loss for words. A flash caught him by surprise.

Leonard lowered a camera model Jim had only seen in carefully preserved advertisements from the twenty-first century. "Another memory for the book," claimed the man, who fiddled with the device without looking at Jim. "I know, it's a little old-fashioned."

"It's perfect," Jim said, meaning it.

Leonard glanced up. "Now you don't have to worry about what you missed in the last two weeks. It's all there, good and bad." He grimaced slightly. "More bad than good, actually."

Jim flipped to another page. "I don't think so. Holy... Uhura, is that what you used to make my sweater?"

"It's called a loom, farm boy." Nyota flushed. "Something that looks so simple shouldn't be so complicated."

He chuckled, then snapped the scrapbook closed when Scotty reached for it. "All mine, buddy, sorry."

"But I want to see if I'm in there!"

"Da," Pavel echoed. "I did not realize Dr. McCoy vas taking pictures..." His eyes widened suddenly.

"Don't have a heart attack. I held back the more incriminating evidence," the doctor remarked dryly.

Jim raised a hand. "Hold up. Chekov did something incriminating?"

Spock interceded. "In the spirit of goodwill, a small amount of leniency would not be remiss. After all, Captain, who here has _not_ engaged in some unauthorized activity for the sake of festivity?"

Leonard rolled his eyes while Jim flickered his gaze from one boyfriend to the next, wondering if they knew what he had done. But no one commented further on the matter, and he certainly wasn't going to be the man to cast the first stone. Chekov looked relieved.

Sulu cleared his throat and looked at Scotty, asking, "You or me?"

"Eh," replied the engineer offhandedly, "be my guest."

Sulu nodded and skirted around the large evergreen tree to an area Jim couldn't see. "It would have been rude to wrap this particular gift, Captain," the man said as he returned with said gift in his arms.

Jim clambered to his feet. "Gertrude!"

Gertrude waved her petals back and forth, then snapped at Sulu's arm.

"Uh oh," Sulu said. "She's mad."

Jim hurried forward to take the flower. "That's because you stuck her in the corner like a naughty child. My poor Gertrude," he soothed, "did mean Mr. Sulu mistreat you?"

"Oh lord," said Leonard. "It's worse than I thought."

Gertrude purred.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

Sulu grinned. "Looks like I was right. She really likes you, sir. That sound signifies a mating interest."

Leonard placed a hand over his face, his voice coming out strangled. "Jim, did you seduce a sentient plant?"

Jim paused and chuckled. "I swear I wasn't trying to. She looked lonely in her flower bed, Bones."

Spock turned to Sulu. "As you have removed... Gertrude from the gardens and presented her thus, are we to assume she is now classified as a house plant?"

"It sounds like a form of enslavement when you put it like that, Mr. Spock."

"To remove a being from its natural habitat for the pleasure and prosperity of others is slavery, Mr. Sulu."

Sulu wasn't ruffled by the assertion. "This could be the best solution for Gertrude. Though her species is mostly solitary by nature, she wasn't thriving in the garden. It has been a quandary for the botany department for some time. She didn't adjust to living among other sentients, nor did she appreciate her solitude when she did have it. We were on the verge for sending her home to the Institute for re-introduction in her native world when, miraculously, her stats—and her temper—began to improve." He smiled at Jim. "Sir, I would like to thank you on behalf of the staff. As it turns out, Gertrude was merely being fickle about the company she kept. We are of the opinion that if she lives with you, she will prosper."

Jim smiled at Gertrude. "And I'm certain I will prosper too."

Spock nodded ever-so-slightly, seeming mollified.

Leonard cautiously came to Jim's side. He murmured, "Does she know she'll be sharing you?"

Jim winked at him and transferred Gertrude to the table where she could be the center of attention.

"Can't top that," decided Scotty as he came forward, "but I'll sure try." He retrieved a small package from under the tree and presented it to Kirk with flourish. Then, as Jim began to peel back the brown paper of the box, his expression sobered. He said, "This is not a gift for just anyone, Capt'n. I crafted this wee bit of tech myself, for someone I knew could handle the responsibility and the power."

Jim paused in pulling at the lid. "Power, Scotty?"

"Aye, power."

Everyone drew nearer, clearly intrigued. From the box Jim drew out a plain, squarish device with a single jewel-like knob in the middle.

Scotty leaned forward, eyes alight. "You'll never have to worry about someone coming up behind you again. It'll track any living person, anywhere with the accuracy of a long-range scanner. Then one little push of this button and _boop!_ They're gone."

"Gone?" Leonard echoed, frowning.

"Out of existence," Scotty clarified.

Jim blanched.

"Mr. Scott," Spock said in a sharper tone.

The engineer stared at his companions for a few seconds more—then burst out laughing. "Ahahaha, they fall for it every time!" he cackled to Keenser. "I cannae _believe_ Capt'n Perfect Hair thinks I'd build him a Weapon Of Doom! Who do ye think I am?" He waggled a finger at the whole group. "I'm the man who resigned his commission over stowing an armed missile aboard this ship!"

"Good point," McCoy muttered.

Nyota placed her hands on her hips. "Scotty, that was cruel."

Jim turned the gift over in his hands. "So, if it doesn't take out my enemies, then what does it do?"

Scotty took it away from the man. "That's just the gag gift, Jim. Your real present is over _there_." He pointed behind Kirk and the gang.

They all turned.

Jim's heart leapt at the same time his stomach turned uneasily.

A woman stood at the threshold of the room, having slipped into the Ready Room unnoticed while everyone's attention was on Scotty's mad-scientist act. Silver hair graced her temples; years of laughter and sorrow had carved lines around her eyes and mouth. By her hesitation, it was clear she was uncertain of her welcome.

"Mom," Jim said.

"Jim," she replied.

A knot loosened in his chest, and he stepped forward. Dying had a way of granting forgiveness for many wrongs.

If Winona Kirk was surprised that her youngest son came to her so swiftly and pulled her into a hug, she didn't show it. She returned the embrace with equal fierceness.

When the hug ended, they studied one another.

Winona brushed back a tiny errant lock of Jim's hair. "You look like your father," she said.

For the first time, Jim heard her words as the compliment she meant them to be. Still, he couldn't help but add, "I look like you too."

She touched her own face and smiled wryly. "Let's hope not. I'm getting much too old."

He gave her wink as he stepped aside and raised his voice, drawing her toward the others. "If you want to meet someone who is truly old at heart... Bones, c'mere!"

"Ha ha, Jim," said Leonard as he came forward. He shook Jim's mother's hand.

Winona's countenance brightened. "Hello, Dr. McCoy. Good to see you again. And you as well, Commander Spock," she said to the Vulcan who joined them. "I hope my boy hasn't been giving you too much trouble."

"More like finding too much trouble but that's a discussion for another day," answered McCoy.

"While nursing a few consolation drinks?" she suggested.

Leonard grinned. "I do like your mother, Jim."

"I can see that," Jim said slowly, looking between his partners and his only living parent. "How, exactly, did you meet my mother, and when were you planning to tell me?"

Winona laughed softly and moved past the three men, casually greeting the rest of the party as though she knew them equally well. Standing to the side, Keenser next to him, Scotty looked on with evident pride at his handiwork.

Jim crossed his arms. "Gentlemen, your captain asked you a question."

Spock locked his hands behind his back, looking at ease. "Dr. McCoy, should I answer the Captain's inquiry?"

"Go for it."

"Admiral Pike introduced us."

The floor shifted under Jim's feet for the briefest moment. Leonard laid a hand on Jim's shoulder to center him.

"Pike?" Kirk repeated.

"He connected us to Winona before the five-year mission. At the time, you and your mother were estranged."

"We weren't—"

"Jim," Leonard said.

He swallowed the lie. "Go on."

"I admit, I thought it was unusual that the Admiral wished to have personal reports made to your mother. I also did not understand why the assignment had to include both of the senior medical officer and myself."

"I remember you voicing that opinion," Leonard said fondly. To Jim, "You see where this is going, don't you?"

Jim's throat had closed up, so he nodded. Christopher's gift to him had been to set the three of them in motion, on a path towards each other. Why now, he wished he knew, did that gamble bear fruit when Jim couldn't thank him?

"Jim..." Leonard started to say, only to shake his head. He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "Go enjoy yourself, kid."

Jim was grateful that McCoy was offering him a chance to step back from heavier emotions. He knew this wasn't the time or place to express them, if ever. He quirked his mouth, saying smartly, "This party could be livelier, you know. Drinks, dancing..."

Leonard rolled his eyes.

Spock said, "Tomorrow's event should satisfy you, then."

"About that," Jim said. "How did an entire crew manage to withhold a secret from their captain?"

Scotty joined the conversation. "We're just damned good at our jobs!"

He laughed. "I know you wrote that program, Scotty."

"So fire me... Ah-ha! You can't because I'm the best, and you need the best!"

"You're all the best," Jim agreed, "except for Spock. Spock didn't give me a present. What the heck, Spock?"

"Infant," declared McCoy with a shake of his head.

"Not like I volunteered for this special attention, Bones... although it is pretty awesome."

"Timing matters. You must wait, Jim."

Both Jim and Leonard turned slightly towards Spock, the latter lifting his eyebrow while the former said, "Seriously?"

Spock only raised an eyebrow of his own before moving away to join Winona, who was talking to Uhura and Sulu.

"That's my cue," Scotty decided. "Pavel, break out the alcohol!"

"Yes!" cried Jim, hurrying to follow him, a medical doctor hot on his heels.


	3. Epilogue

A man walked onto the observation deck alone. He came to stand beside someone already at the port railing. Side-by-side, their stances mirrored one another.

He asked her, "Did you enjoy the tour?"

"I'd say my host was more excited than I was—not that I didn't enjoy myself. The Enterprise, she's a beautiful ship, Jim."

He could agree with that. "The best in the galaxy."

Winona Kirk made a sweeping motion with one hand to encompass the long viewport pane. "This hardly surprises me. Even as a small boy, you loved the stars. I knew you would follow them one day."

"I didn't always want to."

She looked at her son. "Yes, you did."

Damn, Jim thought. Caught. "I wanted to but I wasn't sure why. Was it really for me, or because everyone expected me to be the next George Kirk?" He met her gaze, then. "That was why I didn't join up when I was eighteen."

Winona turned to face him and laid a hand on his arm. "Jimmy, I never wanted you to be anyone other than yourself."

He considered that and asked seriously, "What you think of the man you see now?"

"I think I'm proud of him, as proud as his father would have been—and as proud as his surrogate father was."

Not expecting that, Jim betrayed himself.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said in understanding, placing her hands on either side of her son's face. "I know, I know. It's all right."

"I'm sorry, Mom," he choked out.

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

"He wasn't Dad."

"James Tiberius Kirk," Winona said sternly, still holding him, "if you think for one second I wasn't happy that you had Pike, dismiss that notion immediately. Christopher was a good man: a father to you and a friend to me. We're both extremely lucky to have known him and have him care about us. Now," she murmured, trying to dry his tears with her sleeve as if he was still five years old, "doesn't that feel better?"

He snuffled. "Not really."

"It will. So don't bottle the feelings up. Take it from someone who knows how damaging that can be."

"Don't tell," her son pleaded, embarrassed.

Winona sighed. "I won't because it's not my place to tell. But, Jim? I expect you to talk about it, at least when it truly hurts. Otherwise you won't move past the grief, and then you won't remember the man—the father—without pain. Is that any way to honor his memory?"

"No."

"Okay then. Besides, I could tell just by the way they look at you, they're desperate to help."

Uh-oh, he thought. His gaze slid away. "They?"

Winona laughed. "I'm old, not blind. You're sleeping with Spock and McCoy."

His laugh was more nervous. "Mom, wow, that's—"

"Completely true," she finished for him, turning back to the stars. "I'm not here to judge, baby. I'm here to visit."

Why did he have the feeling she was the one downplaying the truth?

Winona Kirk said slyly as she tapped one fingernail against the metal rail, "You will let me sit down to dinner with the three of you before my departure."

It wasn't a question.

"I... can see I don't have a choice," he said.

"Excellent," replied the woman, her chin lifted high, looking very much like the leader of one of Starfleet's science vessels. "Now what is Spock's father's home number?"

* * *

 _Some time later_

Jim Kirk sprawled backwards across the seat of the couch, draping one leg over a couch arm as he exclaimed, "I am _glad_ that's over!"

His two companions who looked down upon him, their stances eerily similar, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. They said nothing.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Stop looking at me like that. I behaved." When no immediate response came, Jim peeked open an eye. "Okay... What's wrong with you two?"

One turned his head to the other. They engaged in a silent exchange of some kind and then went back to staring at him.

Unnerved now, Jim levered himself into a sitting position. He placed his hands on his knees. "I've missed something. What is it?"

"Spock?" said McCoy.

"I am experiencing great internal debate, Doctor. What course of action would you recommend?"

The hairs on the back of Kirk's neck stood up.

A touch of amusement curved Leonard's lips. "I admit, I'd like to see him suffer a while longer."

"Is that your recommendation?"

"Mm," decided the man, "maybe not. Go on and show 'im."

If Bones and Spock wanted Jim held in suspense, they had succeeded. "Show me what?" He stared at Spock. "What's going on?"

Without replying, Spock turned around and left the cabin area.

McCoy chuckled and took a seat in a side chair.

Jim leaned forward. "Bones. _Bones,_ " he said in a hushed voice, "am I in trouble?"

"It's funny that you automatically assume you're in trouble, kid. Also makes me wonder what you've done that would make you believe it."

"I haven't done a thing," he countered indignantly. To prove his point, he forced himself to relax against the couch again, then smirked. "Clearly you want to get a rise out of me, McCoy. I'm not playing."

"I'll be sure to remind you later on that you said that, Jim."

What in hell were his boyfriends up to?

Jim's relief was visible when Spock returned. The Vulcan came unerringly towards the couch and, at the last moment, drew out a package from behind his back.

Jim stared at it dumbly for all of three seconds before he snapped upright and snagged it. "My present!" he cried, grinning. "Spock, I'd almost forgotten!"

"I would be offended if I did not know how preoccupied you were with making a good impression on my father."

Jim winced. "Was I that obvious?"

"Quite," replied Spock dryly.

Ducking his head, Jim turned the package over in his hands and admired the neat wrapping and perfectly symmetrical red bow.

"Well open it!" Leonard insisted.

Jim eyed the man. "So you already know what it is?"

Leonard laughed. "Actually, I don't. It's a complete mystery to everyone but the pointy-eared hobgoblin."

Spock countered smoothly, "Then perhaps you should assist Jim in the unwrapping of the gift, Leonard, to satisfy your curiosity sooner."

Leonard stared at Spock strangely for a few seconds before shrugging. "Why not?" He traded his seat in the chair for the empty spot next to Jim on the couch.

"Don't rip the paper, Bones!"

"It's going in the recycler anyway!"

"No, no, no, you messed up the bow!"

"For god's sake, you're acting like this came from the President of the Federation. Hurry up!"

Both Kirk and McCoy paused when the wrapping fell away, revealing an ornately carved box.

Leonard trails his fingers across the top and whistles. "Is this Vulcan craftsmanship, Spock?"

"Affirmative." Spock paused. "I requested that it be made in likeness to a chest in my household which I found of interest as a child."

Jim looked up. He couldn't imagine how rare this must be. Not many Vulcans skilled of a such trade had survived Nero's destruction. And that Spock had taken a treasured memory from his childhood and thought to share it with him... "Spock, thank you."

"The chest is only part of the gift," Spock said.

Leonard's hands slid away so that Jim could open it. Inside the box was a dark cloth pouch and in the pouch—

Two silver rings.

They caught the light in Jim's palm.

Spock took a step forward. His voice was grave. "The chest is called—" He said the name in Vulcan. "The closest translation in Standard would be 'memory of the heart'. My father gave one to my mother, which she kept in their room and filled over the years with various things that she said had special memories. When I asked my father why he did not consider Mother's emotional attachment to inanimate objects illogical, he told me, 'Humans do not have eidetic memories. An association with a feeling or a meaning is helpful to your mother in preserving a memory she does not wish to forget. Therefore it is not illogical.'"

In Jim's hand the rings had warmed. He felt Leonard lean against him.

McCoy asked the question Jim couldn't seem to give voice to. "And the rings?"

"The chest contained her betrothal ring—the first memory she cherished. The custom of wearing matrimonial rings is Terran, and she did not wish to give the impression that her bond with Sarek was not sufficient. Jim," Spock added more slowly, "Leonard... I have no such reservations. I would be honored if each of you wished to wear a ring as a symbol of our commitment. The chest is Jim's but the gift inside—my heart—belongs to both of you. Would you consider becoming my betrothed?"

The sound of Spock talking had been reduced to a buzzing in Jim's ears. His fist closed around the rings; nary a second later his hand jerked open. The rings were still there. He could see the faint inscription along the inner band of each of them, a phrase in Vulcan he didn't yet know how to read.

He remembered to breathe, then, and inhaled shakily.

"Jim," someone was saying. A hand touched his back. "Jim?"

He looked up.

Both Leonard and Spock were staring at him. Leonard's faced lined was with emotion. The look in Spock's eyes betrayed a carefully empty expression.

Jim didn't care if his smile wobbled at the edges. "Yes, of course."

Leonard made a choked sound and hunched over.

Jim slung an arm over McCoy's shoulder. "Bones... Bones, hey, don't do that. If you cry, I'll cry."

Leonard's insistent "I'm not crying" was muffled by his sleeve. When the man finished wiping at his eyes, he sat up in one violent motion, catching Jim off guard. They looked on in astonishment as Leonard cursed soundly. "Goddamn it! Get me a damn communicator!"

Spock fetched Jim's personal device from his desk.

Leonard snatched it up and flipped it open, twisting its dial viciously. "McCoy to Uhura."

When Nyota answered, she sounded like they had woken her, which was likely given the hour. "Uhura here."

"Mission Jim-and-Spock-Are-Idiots is a bust."

" _What?_ "

"I know!" McCoy wailed. "Cancel the damn band, the dinner, fireworks—everything!"

Jim looked at Spock over Leonard's head. "What?" he mouthed.

Spock appeared as confused he did.

"Leonard, what happened? Where's Kirk and Spock? Where are you? Shit, where's my bra? I'm coming over."

"No need. Your ex beat us to the punch."

Silence came from the other end of the call, then Nyota let out of a peel of laughter.

Leonard grumped, "Tell you later," and snapped the communicator closed. Then he tossed the device on the coffee table and slumped back, putting his hands over his face. "Damn it."

"Bones." Jim wanted to kiss McCoy's grumpy face. "You were going to propose to us, weren't you?"

"At tomorrow's party." The man groaned, complaining, "Should of known Spock was going to get there first!"

"Fascinating," said Spock. "Should I retract my offer?"

Leonard's head shot up. "You'd better not!"

Jim exchanged a look with Spock, then ran a hand along Leonard's arm. "I can be proposed to twice."

"I agree with Jim. Why cancel your plans when clearly much time and effort was given?"

Leonard stared at them with a strange look. "You want to go through this again?"

"And maybe a third time," Jim replied cheekily. "I want my turn. In fact, don't think you two were the only ones with a master plan—or a backup. Or a backup of the backup."

"I have a spreadsheet," Spock responded serenely.

Leonard smiled. Then he pinched Jim on the leg. "One of those rings is mine, kid. Give it to me."

Jim obligingly held out his hand.

"Can't believe I'm crazy enough to marry again," said the doctor. "Fair warning: if we divorce, _I'm_ taking the planet this time."

Jim had absolutely no intention of letting Spock or Bones down. Their marriage would work because he would give everything he was to seeing that it did.

Leonard seemed to read his mind, for he reached out and stroked the side of Jim's face. "It's all right, I already know how difficult it will be to get rid of you."

Jim linked his hand with Leonard's and placed his other hand on Spock's shoulder. "This is the best gift of all."

"What?" asked McCoy.

"Being with the two of you," he said.

It seemed they agreed, for both leaned in to capture him. He knew then that neither Spock nor McCoy had any intention of letting him go, and that suited Jim just fine.

 **The End**


End file.
